


When the Rain and Music Flow

by hyunnieandtea



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dystopia!AU, Hints of physical and emotional abuse, Hostage Situation, Journalist Kyungsoo, Kidnapping, Light Romance, M/M, Singer Byun Baekhyun, baeksoo - Freeform, hacker jongdae, kaisoo journalist partners in crime, thank you elyxion, though we all know he can’t hack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 08:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16364600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyunnieandtea/pseuds/hyunnieandtea
Summary: There is a man who dares to go to the city square every day and bring out a guitar and play it - and even sing along. There is also a journalist who watches him from his window, thinking it would be the opportunity of a lifetime to get his story on paper. He’s always entranced by the singer and his melodies, until the cops eventually come and pull him away, telling him he can't be doing that here in this new dystopian society where any form of creative art isn't allowed. It's alright, though. He always comes back the next day to do the same thing, bold and unafraid of the rules; until one day, he stops coming.





	When the Rain and Music Flow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt A213 | It’s finally done! After weeks of planning and writing, I can only think of how many times those around me gave me the strength to keep going with this. I’d like to thank my awesome beta reader for their help getting this story started with the brainstorming we did, and especially to the mods. Without your help, and many times of forgiveness towards me when I asked for extensions, this story never would have made it to the end. I truly hope the prompter, and whoever else reads this, enjoys the story. I hope it’s not too much of an open ending, I definitely felt like I could have added way more and still want to, but please know that I definitely wanted it to end, and end on a lighter note if not neutral. This was a rollercoaster of a ride, but I am definitely proud that I was able to finish this and get through Exogeddon despite crawling over the finish line. The title definitely is a hint towards a song sung by a special someone of mine, and I definitely took the song as the main point of inspiration after getting through the middle of the story. It’s a favorite of mine and definitely one of the top reasons I fell in love with Exo, so it’s very dear to me. The elyxion vcr’s also were a big inspiration to the looks and partially to the professions of the characters. I cry every time we get a continuation of the storyline; it’s beautiful haha. Again, thank you for your time, and I hope you enjoy this story :)

A huge stack of newspapers were dropped onto the corner of Kyungsoo’s desk with the headline “Fire Levels Reach New Heights in SK” along with a sticky note labeled with tasks Kyungsoo needed to accomplish throughout the day.

 

_ ‘Get coffee for editing staff; clean out filing cabinets years 1990-2000; email printer company for next week’s shipments; hand out invitations for City Hall Banquet in a month.’ _

 

The list went on and on with other small tasks. 

 

“Looks like you got the intern list today, Kyungsoo,” Jongin said, snickering as he sat down at the desk next to Kyungsoo. He propped his feet on the desk with his dress shoes smushed in the back like they were slippers. 

 

“Yeah, I can already feel like today is going to be awful,” Kyungsoo said, pushing Jongin’s legs until they fell off the desk. “It’s the second time this week I’ve gotten this, Jongin. The  _ second  _ time. I have to get  _ coffee  _ for christ's sake. When’s the last time that you had this kind of agenda for the day?”

 

He shrugged.

 

Kyungsoo could only shake his head while he gathered up his things to leave. He huffed as he collected his belongings and suit coat, groaning as he swung it on.

 

When he imagined working at an office, Kyungsoo figured he’d be surrounded by intelligent business men all clad in suits and fancy watches, or bosses with salt and pepper hair that was gelled back to perfection. He wasn’t at all expecting to be surrounded by idiots in higher positions doing better things when he’d been working longer, crammed on a little desk in a little poorly lit room, waiting for the time he could finally write the perfect news article. 

 

Kyungsoo at least had some leeway in what he could do since the country still allowed free speech for journalists and news reporters. In the littlest of ways, he could get back at the government, his authorities, or help the community in a legal way compared to people trying to violently protest the new reforms. 

 

As he sat looking over the headlining picture of the papers, a deep red fire burned over a town caused by the recent riots. It has been like that for a few months— fires, attacks, protests— and only has grown in size and havoc. 

 

It was great for their small newsroom, but awful for the city. People were always afraid and all the writers could do were type with shaking hands, wondering when the next big thing would drop- and if they lived long enough to see it through.

 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jongin asked.

 

“No,” Kyungsoo said with a sigh, “I can do it by myself. Thank you, though.” 

 

The sigh Kyungsoo let out was all too familiar to him before waving goodbye to Jongin. 

 

Kyungsoo walked down the building complex’s three flights of stone stairs, hearing the heels of his dress shoes click against the steps and echo around him. He looked at the cash he grabbed from the secretary on the way out, hoping it would be enough for the cheapest box of coffee he could nab down the street. 

 

Opening the door with a deep breath through the mask he put on, Kyungsoo headed off towards a tiny square a block down to get the coffee. 

 

It was nearing the end of July, and the morning sun already felt so overbearing. Little breezes form busses and cars whizzing by were the only thing keeping Kyungsoo from breaking a complete sweat.

 

Luckily, it was past the early morning rush for cafés, so he got the coffee in a decent amount of time. 

 

Kyungsoo listened to the cars and busses whiz by and held the coffee with two hands. He wanted to take his time getting back and walked almost aimlessly by the high-end stores, gazing at the mannequins. If it weren’t for the people passing him by as he paused, he would’ve thought it was himself through the glass. 

 

Walking again through the streets of Seoul, his mind wandered, thinking of when these alleys and neighborhoods were filled with life. When they had art, poetry, and music. All forms of creativity gone in the blink of an eye. 

 

Disobeying a new law set in place by the new form of government, or rather dictatorship, meant death in certain cases. It was very oppressive for a culture so intertwined in art and its many forms. Without the colorful sculptures lining the streets, without music in both traditional and current senses of the word, and without words either spoken in theater, sung to a crowd, or written in a book, life seemed to become dull and gray like how the clouds from factories never seemed to stop blocking the sun. 

 

With a shake of his head, Kyungsoo took his gaze away from a glass building he was staring at to see a news broadcast playing images of fights in the southern areas of South Korea, and headed back to work. 

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” Jongin said after Kyungsoo arrived, box of joe in hand, “You didn’t have to get me some, too.”

 

Kyungsoo waved him off. “It’s no big deal. I only needed a little for the few editors we have and there was extra.”

 

“Really, thank you,” Jongin said, “I’ll need this to get home later. I was up all night thinking of the storm we are supposed to be getting tonight. It’ll be interesting to see how my new dog is going to handle it.”

 

“You got another dog?”

 

“Her name is Hodu,” he said, pulling out his phone to show a picture of a brown and white speckled toy poodle. “Like the sweet,” Jongin said with a smile that made his eyes crinkle. 

 

Kyungsoo smiled too looking at the phone screen, happy the government at least let people take pictures as “documentation of history and events.” 

 

Jongin was still smiling, now softly, as he tucked his phone back into one of his pockets, getting back to his computer screen. Jongin went back to his typing, the old keyboard they had clicked as they pressed on the chunky keys. 

 

A part of Kyungsoo wished they had the up to date keyboards made of glass and had sensors to type with light keys like any other government building, but another part of him felt excited to use a vintage keyboard that made music, so to speak, as he wrote. 

 

He could almost fall asleep to the sounds at work. It was another perk he loved about his job: the noise. 

 

If anything, sounds made him concentrate more than silence. Sometimes he got lost in his thoughts while sitting in silence. It was a permeable darkness that clouded his mind when he couldn’t think and he was stuck in writer's block. He hated the feeling that the world stopped, so sounds kept him grounded. 

 

He didn’t even notice that Jongin opened one of the tinted glass windows a crack while he was out to get the coffee, the sounds of the city entering his ears. Cars honking their horns, people chattering on their morning stroll, and–

 

Suddenly he froze. His fingers turned to ice and a chill ran down his spine. Kyungsoo looked away from his screen to meet Jongin’s, who also happened to freeze.

 

“Do you—” Jongin started to say, but trailed off too scared to utter the next few words. 

 

Kyungsoo’s shocked and scared face hardened and he nodded. Slowly the two got up from their chairs, squeaking as they did. 

 

They trailed over to the glass window and tried to peer outside. They both tried to cram their heads out of it to see where it was coming from, but alas either the window was too small or their heads were too big to fit at the same time. 

 

Kyungsoo was holding his breath as Jongin stepped back and pushed him towards the window to look first. 

 

Kyungsoo froze, resisting the push. 

 

“Why are you stopping now?” Jongin whispered, because he was too scared to speak any louder than a hush. 

 

“Because,” Kyungsoo said quietly, looking around at the office of unsuspecting writers. 

 

“Because what? It’s not like listening to it will put you in jail,” Jongin said, his deep voice barely audible.

 

Jongin gave Kyungsoo another push and he finally stuck his upper body slowly out of the window, the silent duo’s curiosity getting the better of them. 

 

Kyungsoo coughed as the dust hit the back of his throat, and quickly tried to hold his coughing back. It was then he could really hear what made the two of them become paralyzed over: singing. And not just singing. 

 

Across the street, the city square was usually bright in the sun and crawling with people. Today though, a man dared to stand on top of a small crate box, singing, and  _ playing guitar _ . He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, a black face mask concealing everything but his eyes, and black skinny jeans with tears by the knees. 

 

He looked like an average guy, but his dark cherry red guitar made him look like a stop sign in the middle of a grassy field. The wood glistened in the morning sun. 

 

“I can’t believe it,” Jongin said in Kyungsoo’s ear. He tried to squeeze next to him. 

 

Kyungsoo didn’t know what to say to that because those were his thoughts too. What almost surprised him more was the fact that his building didn’t send out guards to arrest the man yet being that a small police station was on the first floor. 

 

“He’s asking to be arrested singing out there,” Kyungsoo finally said. “And with a guitar? What body part did he sell on the black market to get that?”

 

On one of his cases a few months back, one of his first real stories, Kyungsoo did research on the Black Market. He, along with a bodyguard and Jongin, went to a local area thought to be full of criminal activity, and Kyungsoo could never forget the energy he had trying to dig deeper into the case. He was on the look out for a suspected assassin, but they were trying to catch him by technology and parts he may buy to promote his cause. Stereos, wires, microphones— if it possibly could deal with the audio technology to spread his ideas throughout the country, it was likely the work of the Music Man as they liked to call him. He used music as a channel to spread awareness, just like the man now playing his guitar. 

 

Kyungsoo could hear Jongin laugh, but both of their attention was still focused on that man, transfixed on the sound. 

 

The man even sounded like he knew what he was doing, making melodies spring to life as his hand went up and down the neck of the guitar, caressing the strings to make them sing as loud as he was. It even felt like a song Kyungsoo should’ve known, but the name was escaping him. 

 

People were hesitant to crowd around the man on the crate, but they did eventually, and even cars were slowing down to get a glimpse at the man. 

 

It was only a few more seconds of singing before Kyungsoo looked below him to see a small batch of policemen blowing whistles and running through the traffic of slow moving cars to reach the man. 

 

Running would have made more sense because the crowd was large enough to get lost in, but the man only stopped and held his hands up as the police officers grabbed him and tore him away from his makeshift stage. 

 

The music was gone too soon, but it appeared the very next day. At first, the man’s playing was light and airy, accompanied by more and more singing. Each time he appeared, Kyungsoo knew that he shouldn’t open the window next to the desk, but there he was, day after day for the next week, waiting for the little bit of life to be added to his bleak world.

 

It came to the point that Kyungsoo opened up his window before the man even showed up. It was summer, so the breeze felt nice anyways. 

 

The little guitar riffs, the rough yet smooth voice, and skills the singer exploited to send his message were all something that Kyungsoo loved to hear over the now dull noises of the city. He even peaked a few times out to see if the man would ever change his look or show his face. He never did.

 

Kyungsoo did see, however, the gentle way he picked at the strings and waltzed around his pretend stage, the way the man bowed to the crowd while he got shooed away by the police who became more and more flexible with the man. He must have had a way with words on top of his way with moving those words up and down with his voice. 

 

His voice was agile, bright almost, and golden like the time the man performed when the sun was setting after a long day at work. 

 

That day after a Friday rush at the office, Kyungsoo was able to see the man up close. He was surprised to see him at any other time other than the morning, but Kyungsoo took it as a chance to really see something that brightened his day up close. 

 

Kyungsoo noticed how his eyes turned to crescents and his voice raised in pitch when he was singing a happy song and how he would make sure to turn to all areas of the crowd he would attract, making sure that everyone got a fair glimpse at him. 

 

Upon approaching the crowd, Kyungsoo felt nervous. He wanted to keep his distance, but like the rest of the audience, he was grabbed by the mysterious singer’s voice. He felt like he would have a great story to tell, and that only made Kyungsoo step closer and closer to the performer.

 

Just as the sun passed through the cracks of the buildings, giving the skyscrapers a yellow glow, the singer’s eyes turned from a black coffee color to a bright copper.

 

When the singing ended for that night, the glow quickly disappeared and the man quickly blended into the crowd before Kyungsoo could reach him.

 

Then one day, the music stopped. Weeks passed and storms blew by to replace any trace of music that may have filled Kyungsoo’s ears with crashes of thunder and the pounding of rain against his office window.

 

In hopes that the musician would return, Kyungsoo kept his window open for the next few weeks when it wasn’t raining. 

 

Since their building was the city hall, they had a space for people to be questioned and a small holding cell to keep a few criminals before they would be moved to the prison a couple of blocks away. But this also meant the man would probably be taken in and Kyungsoo could get more info on the man. 

 

Jongin must’ve have the same idea because they both scrambled to their desks after watching the man be dragged inside their building, grabbing a handful of pens, dropping a lot of them on the floor, and snatching several notebooks. Jongin also made sure to snatch his small camera and tripod. 

 

They didn’t even bother to shut their office door as they raced out of the room and towards the stairwell. 

 

“If Leeteuk would let us publish this it’ll be huge!” Jongin laughed and shouted as he raced Kyungsoo down the stairs taking two at a time. 

 

“Yeah but ‘if’ is the keyword here,” Kyungsoo said, but was also smiling and out of breath. 

 

It was surprisingly easy to get into the police holding area with their City Hall journalism badges. Jongin could barely contain his excitement as Kyungsoo tried explaining that their boss told them to collect old files from the back. 

 

“Take a left when you get down that hall,” the secretary said, sounding uninterested. “The pin code is 5513 to get into the back.”

 

Kyungsoo almost shook his head in disbelief at how easy it was. He was hoping to face some challenge to make this little excursion a bit more adventurous. The writer inside him was begging for a story, and with this new topic, Kyungsoo was certain he could get that story out there to spread awareness about what was really going on in the country. 

 

Once the pin code allowed Kyungsoo and Jongin to enter, they were greeted with a dark hallway with lights sparingly lit on the ceiling. A sign said “Files Ahead, Holding Right, Printing Left.”

 

“Guess we’re going right,” Jongin said, already getting his small yet fancy camera out for documentation. 

 

Another thing Kyungsoo loved about his job was his co-worker. Jongin was assigned as his photographer, and he was a damn good one. Every story Kyungsoo was lucky enough to be put on, Kyungsoo requested Jongin as a photographer, and he was never disappointed with the results. There was even a picture Jongin took of Kyungsoo facing a crowd of protesters fighting against minimum wage and employment rates that gained some attention despite being a tiny article on the second to last page of the paper. 

 

It was only a year ago since he joined this newspaper company and so much happened in between. Most of the stories he had to share, however, were him fetching coffee for his co-workers. He may have written great articles, but the bosses knew too many of Kyungsoo’s articles could create a stir. 

 

“Here it is,” Kyungsoo said, pulling open the door to Holding. With a swing of his arm, another dimly lit area came into view. There was only an officer, sitting at desk typing, and the man, inside a makeshift cell. 

 

The officer looked up, eyeing the duo. “What brings you two here?”

 

“Um,” Kyungsoo began, looking back and forth between the officer and Jongin. He hadn’t thought that far, feeling the adrenaline start to wear off. He was also surprised the building wasn’t on the brink of chaos from the cherry red guitarist. 

 

“We—” he started again, eyes darting.

 

Then the journalism gods gave Kyungsoo a silver lining in his moment of dumbfoundedness: the phone on the policeman’s desk rang. Despite being in a society with no music, it was nice to hear the old school looking phone do a three-toned ring. 

 

“Hello, Seoul City Hall, this is—” the officer said, his eyes growing wider after being cut off by the other person on the phone. 

 

“You mean to tell me someone broke into the City Hall banquet hall? Why would those fools do that,” the policeman whose name tag read Lee said. 

 

Then as soon as the call started, it ended. “I’ll have to leave you kiddos.”

 

“Leave?” Jongin said. He was trying not to smile too much. 

 

“Yeah I have all my officers out patrolling and directing that crowd that idiot made,” Officer Lee said,  pointing to the mini Music Man, “So I have to head out and head over to the location of the banquet. I’m sure you two heard of it, being employees from this building.” 

 

The two nodded. Kyungsoo had known about it for months, occasionally being asked to help make invitational emails to those in the City Hall office. 

 

“I know you two are journalists,” Officer Lee said, looking at Kyungsoo and Jongin before pointing to man in the cell, “but please don’t try to make a mess in here. And try not to edge  _ him _ on. Already had enough trouble trying to get him in there. Put up quite a fight for someone so skinny. And if something  _ does  _ happen, I know who did it.”

 

The officer gave them a dark glare, but it was gone in a flash. He quickly left them in the silence of the hallway, the only noise being the rickety ventilation system.  

 

“Well,” Jongin said quietly now that it was them and the singer a door or two away, “That was easy.”

 

Kyungsoo relaxed his shoulders and gave Jongin a look, raising his eyebrows. They both knew this would be their only chance to talk to the other man, and they were not going to pass it up.

 

_ ‘Ready?’ _ Kyungsoo mouthed. Jongin nodded, his eyes hardening. 

 

Clearing his throat, Kyungsoo touched his badge to a scanner to the next area, and walked through the sliding door. This next hall was a little more dim, but one room towards the end had a soft glow coming from the barred door. 

 

Jongin shifted his camera in the nook of his elbow and opened the screen, turning it on. Then, they began to approach the man, energy beginning to fill Kyungsoo’s bloodstream once more. 

 

The man looked up as the two blocked the entrance to the large, cold room, Kyungsoo’s hand shivering- he wasn't sure if it was from the sudden chill from the room, or his nerves getting to him.  

 

The singer’s face, now without a mask, was spotted with patches of dirt and adorned with a scrape on his face, fresh blood dripping down below his left eye. He must’ve put up a fight before the police were able to tie him down. 

 

At first, the man’s expression was one of uninterest. His slightly droopy eyes and low eyebrows looked dull, as if if exterior appearance wasn’t already showing how bruised up he was. He looked not much older than Kyungsoo, but with that one glance, he must’ve been through a lot.

 

The man stayed silent, but his eyes grew sharper the more he looked at the journalists and their equipment.

 

Outside of the makeshift red stickers on his jacket more than likely used for a quick mug shot, it was the only sign of color in the cell besides the blood on his face. 

 

He knew from experience that not many people would talk to him right away if they were bombarded by all the high profiling questions Kyungsoo had saved in his brain, so he took it easy, hoping his calmer route would get something out of the man. If he had such a passion to play music, they why would he stay silent about his cause?

 

But Kyungsoo did not want to get too deep either. He needed to find the crack in his armor first. 

 

“What’s your name?”

 

Silence.

 

Kyungsoo was only met back with a gaze. The man sighed and dropped his head a little, his black hair obscuring his eyes. 

 

“I’m Kyungsoo,” he said with a quiet voice. “I work for the City Hall here in Seoul as a reporter. If you’d like to get your story out there, I can help.”

 

Jongin stepped back, getting his camera set up on a small tripod, and Kyungsoo knew it was already running. Jongin had this great habit of almost always having it on in a situation like this in case he missed something as he set up the equipment- so in the end he would at least have some sort of audio recording. 

 

“Why did you go in the street and play a song? Did you go knowing you would be arrested?”

 

None of his questions were working and Kyungsoo felt like he was running out of him before another officer would show up and whisk him away. There was one question, however, that was tugging in the back of his mind that he felt he had to ask. 

 

“What song did you play?”

 

Almost instantly, the man shot up from sitting on the only piece of furniture in the room. He came face to face with Kyungsoo, hitting the bars with his hands, the metal echoing throughout the room. His dark brown eyes began to shine, not from excitement, but from tears Kyungsoo didn’t notice falling. The man pulled the collar of his hoodie down further to reveal a holographic necklace, if not a choker, around an inch in width with a large mechanism on it that glowed a dim green. 

 

The man mouthed words, but Kyungsoo couldn’t read his lips he was talking so fast. “Wait,” Kyungsoo said, “Wait, slow down.”

 

Jongin heard the tension in Kyungsoo’s voice and snapped a picture of the man showing the necklace, and Kyungsoo looking at him, before walking over. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Jongin asked. “What happened?”

 

Kyungsoo watch as Jongin stared at the man, almost pleading to them. One thing Kyungsoo could pick up on was the man wording ‘ _ Help me, help me, help me’  _ over and over. 

 

“We’ve got to get him out of here,” Jongin said. 

 

As much as Kyungsoo didn’t know about what the singer and Jongin said, he knew he was right. Something seemed off how the singer did not speak and seemed desperate about the meaning to his rebellious act. Most criminals would find pleasure in destruction, but the man’s sad emotions were not the normal reaction. Sure, it could be that he wanted to avoid getting in trouble, but with those sad eyes and banged up body, especially with him pointing to the necklace frantically, something was not right. 

 

Something was up. 

 

‘ _ But how do we do that?’  _ Kyungsoo thought, looking the man in the cell and then to the room around them. ‘ _ Keys? _ ’

 

Kyungsoo and Jongin ran around the hallway until they heard the door handle jiggle from where they entered earlier. 

 

“Shit,” Kyungsoo said, grasping at his head, “Shit, shit, shit. What do we  _ do _ ?”

 

The man in the cell began pacing, Jongin still ran around the room frantically shifting through drawers and shelves at the empty guard station. 

 

Papers were everywhere. The handle still jiggling, a few knocks on the door.

 

“Anyone in there? Lee you still here?” a voice said behind the door. 

 

Kyungsoo ran to the cell, “Do you remember seeing a key that was used to put you in there?”

 

The man shook his head. 

 

“Well,” Kyungsoo said until he spotted a chair in a corner, “Guess we will have to try this.”

 

Jongin and the man stood dumbfounded as Kyungsoo took a wooden chair and placed the legs between the bars closer to the floor. “Learned this from a movie.”

 

In one swift motion, Kyungsoo pulled up on the chair, lifting the door to release the cell door hinges. 

 

“Jackpot,” Jongin said in disbelief.

 

With the door handle to the office still shaking, the three men then made their escape. 

 

They left the hallway, running in the opposite direction where they came from, to the door leading to the emergency exit. They scurried down a series of fire exit stairs behind the office and fell onto the streets of Seoul. Once there, the man put his mask back on, his hands still cuffed, and lead the way to an apartment complex. 

 

Each step led Kyungsoo to think they should turn back, but he kept pushing, willing himself forward. No amount of pacing and begging on his knees would be able to help him now. He was skipping work, broke a possibly large offence criminal out of the police station, and now was on the run. 

 

“Why don’t we stop somewhere?” Jongin said, “Get a coffee or something. I’m dying.”

 

The man leading them stopped and pulled them all aside into an alleyway covered in shadows. At the end was a dead end and the three stopped next to a bolted door and then held up his cuffed hands to his mouth in a shushing motion. 

 

At the end of the path, puddles reflected the blue sky onto the ground, adding a splash of color next to the grimy red brick walls and steel supports for fire escapes of apartment buildings. 

 

When the passing city cars were the only thing heard, the singer knocked lightly on the door four times. 

 

Next to the door, a light turned from red to green, followed by a loudspeaker crackling on. 

 

“Who is it? C’mon, it’s 11 in the morning,” a man said with a whine as if 11 was still bedtime.

 

The singer stared at the camera above the door with a twitch in his brow.

 

“What jerk—” the voice continued, “Oh, Byun, it’s you.”

 

With that, the door light flickered and a bolt was unlatched, a heavy sigh left the singer and he shook his head.

 

Byun, Kyungsoo assumed to be the singer’s last name, opened the door and continued down another path to another door already cracked open. 

 

“I thought you were  _ dead _ ,” the new man began to say once Kyungsoo passed through the door into a tiny apartment. 

 

Byun and the man awkwardly hugged, the cuffs keeping the men from doing too big of en embrace, followed by a glance up and down from the latter.

 

“How’d this happen?”

 

A glance towards a notebook and pen gave the other man a hint and he grabbed a gadget that almost seemed to magically unlock the handcuffs. Byun soon quickly went to writing down his adventure. 

 

Kyungsoo and Jongin stood aghast near the doorway, hearts pounding. 

 

The newspaper duo looked around the room, around a  _ hacker’s _ room. It was full of wires that were hung across the ceiling, posters advertising the newest technology, and a few maps to cover up torn down wallpaper, and a wall solely made of computer monitors. A frosted window covering the wall from top to bottom parallel to the doorway gave light to the blue tinted soda cans and books scattered across the floor.

 

“Oh my god,” Kyungsoo whispered. Jongin stepped closer to him, their shoulders brushing against each other. 

 

Jongin went to raise his camera, but Kyungsoo swatted him down.

 

“We need to leave,” Kyungsoo said.

 

“We can’t,” Jongin said, “I want to help them.”

 

“In what world does it look like we can  _ help  _ them, Jongin? They’re  _ real _ criminals. Just look at those computers.”

 

“But the dude from the cell was saying to help and and you used the chair to do the thing with the hinges and—”

 

“I don’t give a heck as to what he was saying and what I mistakenly did. This is too much for use to handle. Look at us Jongin. Now look at them. Now back to us. What do you see?”

 

“A hacker and a man who needs  _ help _ .”

 

“He really does,” the hacker said, “And I’m not a hacker, I’m just the eyes for Baekhyun here.”

 

Baekhyun, still scribbling away, sat on a couch finally removed his hood, leaving his raven hair to shine from the light behind him. His cheeks were highlighted from the light bouncing off the paper, showing each curve of the face, each mole, the curve of his lips. 

 

Kyungsoo couldn’t look away. But he did. He had to. 

 

“What do you mean?” Jongin asked the hacker. 

 

“Baekhyun was captured by the rebel group, Cesura. You know, the ones that have been setting half of the countryside on fire?”

 

Kyungsoo thought back to the newspaper headers he worked on describing just that. He nodded solemnly, thinking back to his distant family struggling to find a place because of those fires. He knew just how bad those people have been in their attempt to fight the imbalances in their justice system and music laws. 

 

“Well,” the man continued, “ I’m sure you’ve also heard of Byun Daehyun?”

 

Jongin almost flew through the ceiling. Kyungsoo realizing he too knew just how important that man was only a couple decades ago, before the new music laws started. 

 

“The famous singer?” Kyungsoo questioned, already knowing the answer, and possibly the true identity of Baekhyun. 

 

The man nodded. “Cesura found out that he had a son, two actually, and was able to kidnap Baekhyun a long time ago. They took him for his voice and now are using him to gain the public’s attention. That’s why he can’t talk right now. They can tap into that internal speaker around his neck and hear what he says. They don’t listen when he sings, so that’s how he ‘talks’ to me. He came to me one day, asking if I could take off his voice necklace transmitter, but I haven’t been able to take it off without the alarm to notify the rebels.”

 

“That’s so awful,” Jongin said, tears almost welling in his eyes. “If one of my sisters had to go through that, I don’t know what I’d do.”

 

The man walked closer to Kyungsoo, “But what brings you two to my humble abode? Why did Byun get you caught up in this mess?”

 

“We— I,” Kyungsoo said, finally chiming in, “Jongin thought he needed help, so we followed him here. We helped him get out of police custody.”

 

“You broke him out?” the man said, a hint of a giggle behind his words. “Wow, you two must be crazy.”

 

“You’re the one talking,” Kyungsoo said, beginning to get fed up with the situation. He wanted to leave but all he was getting were questions and more anxiety about heading back outside. The fact of getting caught for being on the run with Baekhyun kept him still despite everything in his body telling him to fly. 

 

“Woah,” the man said, “I’m only joking. Calm down there shorty, I’m only trying to fill you in. If Baekhyun wanted to hurt you, if  _ I _ did, you two would be long gone by now. The fact you’re still here is just shocking to me.”

 

Kyungsoo stepped forward, but Jongin held him back.  

 

“We just broke someone out, so I don’t think it’d be best to go back out in broad daylight,” Jongin said, confirming Kyungsoo’s thoughts. 

 

“Ah,” the man said. He began to pace back and forth with his lips curled into a wide grin, making wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes. “So this is your makeshift hideout then, eh?”

 

Kyungsoo didn’t want to admit that, so he refocused his gaze back onto Baekhyun. 

 

“How about we make a deal?” the man asked, “You help us out trying to figure out how to get Baekhyun to leave that cult of a rebellion group, and I can help you steer clear and get your name off the police’s radar.”

 

Jongin was already nodding. 

 

Kyungsoo, confused, was only taking in more detail of his mysterious idol. He looked up to him in a way. He wished he could have his bravery for singing, especially since he wanted to be one when he was really little, before the new laws. He wished he could have his strength. Just how long had he been forced to sing? To take something of joy and turn it against him? To use it against the government to make a change? 

 

Was helping them worth the cost? Yes, he could help save someone innocent. But was the danger worth it?

 

Kyungsoo continued to look at Baekhyun, now done writing and milling about the little kitchen in the right corner. He watched him grin at the fridge as he pulled out a container of strawberries, starting to eat the berries covered in syrup. Just weeks ago, he was standing on a stage, running and escaping whatever the police and Cesura possibly threw his way. 

 

Despite the cuts on the skin visible, who knew how many bruises he had hidden under his clothes? On his heart?

 

The way he seemed to calm about this gave Kyungsoo a glimmer of hope in this dreary situation.

 

He thought back to a time where he was being bullied in school for shaving his hair and combed through the short black locks he had now. It was a rough period of his life, being blackmailed as a child to do the stealing of lunch food that the main bullies wanted to do, and that was the main reason he wanted to be a journalist, to fight against injustice in a way where he didn’t have to physically fight. He was never that strong, but he was that smart to find a way out of any situation. 

 

“Deal.”

 

Jongin began to celebrate with jumping and did a twirl to celebrate. He always wanted to be a ballerino, and Kyungsoo laughed at how even their deepest dreams could push them through dark times. Baekhyun looked over to Kyungsoo and Jongin, locking eyes with Kyungsoo and giving him a toothy grin. 

 

“Great!” the man said, “The name’s Jongdae, JD for short. What’re yours?”

 

Jongin responded with a clap of his hands, “I’m Kim Jongin.”

 

“Do,” Kyungsoo said, “Do Kyungsoo.”

 

JD held out his hand, to which Kyungsoo firmly grasped, shaking their hands in agreement. 

 

“I’ll be frank,” Kyungsoo said, “I don’t know how we will be able to pull this off.”

 

“Oh, I have my ways,” JD said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

 

The three laughed as Baekhyun made his way back over. Kyungsoo watched as Baekhyun approached him, lifting up his notebook to show off two words etched thickly in ink.

 

_ ‘Thank you.’ _

  
  
  


“So, you’re telling me that we have to break back into the City Hall, get the attention of Cesura after taking off Baekhyun’s necklace, which will be a whole other tasks in of itself, and make it out alive through the war that will break out from the collision?” Kyungsoo asked. 

 

JD nodded, saying, “And the first step is to go to our local mini mart to get the parts I need to take off the necklace.”

 

“You mean the black market,” Kyungsoo said, not making it a question.

 

“Again,” JD said, “I have my ways. Now who wants to go with me?”

 

Baekhyun immediately raised his hand.

 

“No,” JD said, “You’re too recognizable now. You should stay here.”

 

Baekhyun pleaded, showing off his puppy eyes. 

 

“Jongin!” JD said with a smile, turning to ignore Baekhyun, “Why don’t you go with me? You can cover your face with your handy dandy camera there and can take pictures of the places I have in mind for my plan.”

 

Soon enough, four people became two after Kyungsoo convinced Jongin it was alright he go instead of him. Kyungsoo, although interested in going back outside, knew how dangerous it would be to go back outside and stayed put with a grimace. 

 

It felt like seconds were minutes and minutes were centuries while Jongin was gone. At least he could talk with him about how screwed they’d be trying to get another job after this. Baekhyun remained silent. No notes were written for a solid hour either. 

 

The television played images of police scouring all over Seoul to find the three of them. Blurred images of him, Jongin, and Baekhyun filled the screens all over the room, with voices overflowing Kyungsoo’s ears in different ways of saying they were all criminals, delinquents on the run. All they were doing was trying to save someone. 

 

“Can you turn this off?” Kyungsoo asked Baekhyun.

 

Baekhyun nodded, returning to reading through Jongdae’s plan he wrote out, and the room went silent. 

 

Still.

 

Silent.

 

Noiseless.

 

Without sound. 

 

A moment of the things he loved ripped from his existence, gone.

 

Kyungsoo stood up with enough force to push his chair backwards, screeching as it did so. He rubbed his temples, eyes shut, and tried to breathe in deeply. 

 

Just as Kyungsoo opened his eyes, Baekhyun walked over from the little reading nook he was in and held his notebook out towards him. 

 

The words ‘ _ Are you okay? _ ’ were scribbled sloppily across the page in black marker. 

 

“As much as I can be,” Kyungsoo said, pushing his bangs out of his face.

 

He was as anxious for Jongin to get back as he was to execute the seemingly impossible plan. Could Jongdae hack into the city’s software to broadcast a message nationwide? Could Baekhyun get the attention of Cesura without getting killed? Could Jongin interrupt a hall full of people and get them to listen to a photographer? Could Kyungsoo remain calm while he helped Baekhyun take off his necklace, and ultimately try to fight back any chaos that may ensue?

 

‘ _ Did you want to ask me those questions again? Take your mind off of this? _ ’

 

“Questions?” Kyungsoo asked, thinking of all the questions about if there was another way to do this, “Do you mean the ones from when we were back at City Hall?”

 

Baekhyun nodded.

 

“Um,” Kyungsoo said, leading them towards the couch to sit. “Let me think. My brain is a mess now.”

 

A small laugh escaped Kyungsoo, however, it was quickly replaced by a frown. He looked back around the room, and noticed just how late in the day it had become. The light coming in from the frosted glass was orange, giving the man in front of him an aura of orange. Baekhyun stared at Kyungsoo with wide eyes, leaning in. 

 

Kyungsoo didn’t know where to start. 

 

So many new questions popped up in his head since entering this room, let alone from the run over here and the time before Baekhyun was even locked up. 

 

“Is it okay to even talk? Like you won’t get in trouble? Do you think we can even do this? What if things fall through?”

 

‘ _ I can, but you won’t. This device is hooked up to my voice only. It can detect when I talk. I can sing in order to speak if I want to. And it will work. It has to.’ _

 

Kyungsoo needed a distraction form this mess, so he focused on the flash from the holographic necklace when Baekhyun breathed in and out. 

 

“It’s amazing how technology can do that,” Kyungsoo said, “Connect to your voice I mean.”

 

‘ _ Isn’t it?’ _

 

His curiosity got the better of him and he held him hand out towards Baekhyun’s hoodie collar, “May I?”

 

Baekhyun nodded his head. The device seemed rather harmless, only holographic plastic and a small plastic box with a light on it as Kyungsoo held down Baekhyun’s hoodie. When he went to reach towards the device itself, that’s when Baekhyun pulled back. 

 

Quickly, Baekhyun reached for the notebook, ‘ _ I don’t know if they know when I tamper with it. _ ’

 

Baekhyun looked around and cleared his throat before scribbling something else. 

 

‘ _ I’ve been under a stricter watch for more than five years, but I still don’t know much about the circumstances I’m in with this thing.’ _

 

Kyungsoo nodded and paused for a moment before asking, “So, I kind of asked this before, but is there a reason why you went up there? Or is it all Cesura doing the work?”

 

‘ _ I chose the songs and the times I perform,’  _ Baekhyun wrote with a serious face _ , ‘but they chose how often I go out. Recently, they had to force me outside. At first, I liked their ideas about change, but now they’re too violent. I don’t want to sing anymore.’ _

 

Kyungsoo could only keep nodding as he asked question after question about how he was taken, what kind of vocal training he had before and after Cesura, about his family, and how he found JD. 

 

And he found out some sillier things Baekhyun was willing to share: His birthday, his pet dog he had at home, how they both loved the same television shows as children, and even how he was able to escape the police a few times while working under Cesura. In between the moments of sadness, Kyungsoo was able to connect and see more to Baekhyun’s narrative.

 

He felt sad hearing Baekhyun’s initial excitement about change, feeling that he was thrilled to be a part of Cesura, and then the downcline in inspiration which led to his current state, where he felt like he was been used. There were a few other boys he met in the place he was kept for training, all of which didn’t make it out alive, and there he was: The final note in a lament for a better life. 

 

Kyungsoo almost felt like he learned too much about Baekhyun, reading about the stories of his scars and his emotional rollercoaster. Despite all of that, Kyungsoo was still in awe of him. 

 

Through the conversation, they grew closer, both emotionally and physically. Kyungsoo found himself giving a laugh here and there from the sarcastic yet informative storytelling from Baekhyun, and scooted closer to him as if he couldn’t hear him. Like he was able to see the surface, but not get the full story. Sure, Kyungsoo was used to the silence of the new music-less world, but he still couldn’t handle not listening to someone’s voice. To  _ Baekhyun’s _ voice. 

 

“Would it be okay if I heard your voice again? Like you don’t have to, um— sing for long, or even sign. Maybe you could talk?”

 

Baekhyun stared blankly at Kyungsoo. 

 

“Or maybe, just say yes or no to some questions? Like twenty questions? No, no, that sounds silly. Maybe we shouldn’t.”

 

Baekhyun let out a laugh that was almost as nice to the ears, maybe nicer, than his singing voice. Kyungsoo felt his ears turn red. 

 

‘ _ Alright, but you have to promise to pay me back later okay?’ _ Baekhyun wrote. He set the notebook down and stood up to stand center stage in the living room, winking at Kyungsoo. 

 

Then the impromptu musical began. 

 

“What would you like to hear?” Baekhyun sang, a casual up and down scale created through each word.

 

Kyungsoo seemed in disbelief at how natural singing seemed to come to Baekhyun. 

 

“What’s your favorite thing to sing?”

 

“Well,” Baekhyun sang at an adagio pace, stretching out the word with a smooth vibrato. He scratched his head. “There is one song.”

 

It was an abrupt start to the song, but as soon Baekhyun hit the first few notes, Kyungsoo instantly recognized the classic Baekhyun chose to sing. The song choice was interesting, but Kyungsoo guessed it suited Baekhyun’s situation. 

 

“When the rain falls and the music flows, I think of you.”

 

Eyelids closed, hands held out at the elbows for movement and expression, Baekhyun looked like he shined under a spotlight in the late afternoon sun.

 

‘ _ Like Rain, Like Music, _ ’ Kyungsoo thought. ‘ _ Could it be for an ex-lover? His family? Maybe his older self, before all this madness started?’ _

 

Baekhyun was a beautiful tragedy. Quite literally, Kyungsoo admired the way his eyes stayed closed as he was singing so vulnerably. The posture Baekhyun held close to himself was open, yet his voice made him feel small at times. Kyungsoo watched him put on a performance with the pull of his lip as he successfully hit higher notes, his brow furrowing together. 

 

“The night when you left,” Baekhyun continued, “it was raining like this.”

 

Baekhyun hit each note perfectly, making it his own style with crescendos near the climax of the song, yet it held a pianissimo tone throughout. It was light, like a shower of rain, but a tidal wave to take in when you thought about the lyrics and its possible meanings, the movement of Baekhyun’s chest, arms, legs, while he sang, and the voice that created the whole sensation. It was the same feeling Kyungsoo felt when he watched Baekhyun sing up close that one day in the streets. 

 

He was an artist. 

 

For the government to take away music, sure censorship was used before in history, but to take away the meaning behind it all? It was insane.

 

Kyungsoo shook his head as he clapped, wondering why this man had to suppress all his emotions that seemed like it would lead to a tsunami of feelings wanting to break though. He stood up, giving Baekhyun a standing ovation.

 

“That was amazing.” Baekhyun’s professional aura broke and he put his hands in his hoodie pocket, turning his eyes away from Kyungsoo. A light blush covered his face.

 

Baekhyun kept his eyes low, but looked from Kyungsoo to the floor before sighing. 

 

“It’s a shame that your voice is being used for evil,” Kyungsoo said, “I wish there was a way to avoid this all somehow.”

 

“That-” Baekhyun sang softly, “That’s something we can worry about later.” 

 

He walked back, standing closer to Kyungsoo. “I’d like my payment first.”

 

“How much?” Kyungsoo said with a chuckle, until he noticed he was an idiot and forgot his wallet back at the office. “Oh, sorry. I don’t have any change to give you.”  

 

Baekhyun shook his head.

 

“That’s not really what I meant,” Baekhyun sang, softer than before, his voice almost cracking, “Not  _ really _ what I want.”

 

Kyungsoo felt his ears redden even more, becoming more aware at just how close Baekhyun was getting to his body.

 

“What,” Kyungsoo said, “What is it that you want?”

 

Baekhyun didn’t answer him; he only moved closer. Kyungsoo only got his breathing in response.

 

Kyungsoo tried breaking the intense stare Baekhyun had on him, looking everywhere but at Baekhyun’s face. He glanced around at the now dark window shining neon lights through, the lights in the room that were dimly lit because the two of them got too distracted talking to ever turn them on. 

 

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun said, this time without any vibrato or hint of singing. Instead, Kyungsoo heard his voice, deep, now without the stuttering of before. 

 

“Baekhyun, I don’t think you should speak. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Kyungsoo could only speak in whispers, afraid to be too loud with Baekhyun so close to him. 

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Kyungsoo gulped, finally meeting his eyes. Deep brown, with his pupil deep enough to hold a galaxy. He felt himself get pulled into his universe, drifting with his heart beating in anticipation.

 

“I don’t have anything for you though. What is it you want?” Kyungsoo murmured. 

 

He listened.

 

The clock ticking.

 

Computers whirling.

 

Floor boards creaking.

 

Breathing. Steady breathing, then hitching when Baekhyun touched Kyungsoo’s face.

 

He listened for things out of the ordinary. He was sued to it since the ban of creative forms, but now he could see more in simple sounds and moments. 

 

The way Baekhyun breathed in in intervals. The forte inhale, the pianissimo exhale. His eyes blinking slowly, like a waltz on a three halves scale. The bend of his brow, long like the notes on a page stretching to create a smooth transition from skin to brow to eyes. 

 

And his eyes.

 

How they seemed like they could hold more symphonies than any one human could create in a million lifetimes. 

 

And then, a pause in thinking.

 

Kyungsoo felt his arm reach up to Baekhyun’s: the first note on their song.

 

Then Kyungsoo leaned into it, so willing for someone’s touch. It’d had been too long since. That was the second, long note. 

 

Then another pause. 

 

Then two notes in quick succession. A movement on each of the two men’s parts. 

 

Inching... Inching. 

 

Then, a whole note. A lingering fragment of time where their eyes were closed.

 

They breathed in sync, a harmony.

 

Next, quick staccato beats. Blinking.

 

A few rests in motion.

 

Then another whole note, this time higher in pitch, this time louder. 

 

And then, a chord: a connection. A transaction. 

 

A kiss.

 

Kyungsoo leaned softly into the kiss. Baekhyun moved his hand up to Kyungsoo’s hair, slightly pulling. A little breath escaped Kyungsoo and then he leaned into Baekhyun’s lips. Their kiss deepened, arms intertwined, and then the rest of the piece played out by the constructors of the moment. 

 

Each movement of the arm lead to the increase in tension. Each pull away lead to a moment of time to think, to breath, to recollect. 

 

And then a collision after the crescendo of instruments joining one after the other. Strings that breathed lines now crossed. Percussion keeping the beats steady for their hearts. Woodwinds creating a flow of breath between adn during each note. Brass keeping the moment suspended as if it could end at any moment.

 

At the finale, a bow. A moment of acknowledgement.

 

Kyungsoo moved his head away. His and Baekhyun’s lips were swollen red and their hair was disheveled.

 

They went back in for another kiss, turning their heads at the same angle, but broke apart at the sound of the door closing. 

 

Jongin and Jongdae returned, bags upon bags in hands.

 

“Oh my god,” Jongin said, struggling to hold his camera equipment in his arms.

 

“That was…” Jongdae said, pausing, “Sexy.”

 

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun blushed, adding more red to their already pink faces. The other two men stumbled further into the room, putting all their belongings on the table.

 

“Alright, now that we have our things together,” JD said, giving Baekhyun an eyebrow raise looking from Kyungsoo and back to him several time, followed by a quick cough, “Time to become heroes.”

  
  
  


Kyungsoo knew he may not be cut out for sports, but he never knew how much he hated running until he was found chasing behind Baekhyun as they made their way through the dimly lit alleyways of Seoul. 

 

It had begun to mist outside and the four men gathered around a small crook in a building, all trying to catch their breath. They were going over the final ideas to their plan. 

 

Jongin kidded around, saying it was “Operation: Fanfare,” but the name surprisingly stuck. It definitely took some stress off Kyungsoo and made him happy to see Jongin still as optimistic and lighthearted as ever. 

 

“So,” JD said, handing over an index card of notes to each person outlining the specifics to their job, “I’ll be taking care of the computer system here to hack into it to play a message to the country.”

 

“Easy enough,” Kyungsoo joked, gaining a fit of giggles and a few nervous chuckles from the rest.

 

“Jongin will help document the process with his camera,” Jongdae continued, “And he will be following me around to provide footage for later if this doesn’t work out.”

 

JD gulped, looking over his index card. “It should all take around 30 minutes, so we all should act rather quickly. If the news office is slow enough, we all should have a partner to get us access into City Hall.”

 

“And who will be doing that?” Jongin asked, cleaning off his camera lens.

 

“Kyungsoo,” JD said, “And he and Baekhyun will go to the venue a few blocks down to get the attention of the rest of the press at the City Hall Banquet. It really is great timing they had this tonight, thanks for letting us know, Kyungsoo.”

 

Kyungsoo nodded, “I was always asked to do the odd jobs at work, and I just happened to be working to supply the office with information about the banquet we could attend.”

 

“Your ‘intern’ jobs really paid off well,” Jongin said, lightly elbowing Kyungsoo with an eye to eye grin.

 

JD then pointed to Kyungsoo and Baekhyun. “So when you two get there, that’s when Baekhyun get the attention of the crowd, make everyone go ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at his vocals and then give a little speech about music to get Cesura to show up. We need their attendance to get eh ball rolling. If there’s no response, then our actions will be meaningless. Do your best to avoid getting caught by anyone and try to make them show up as soon as possible. If they appear on the news, we will have our audience for the message I will broadcast.”

 

“It’s quite simple,” Jongdae continued, “But I’m sorry we couldn’t brainstorm more about what you two will be doing while getting the attention of the big City Hall members.”

 

Baekhyun waved him off, singing with a shaky voice only Kyungsoo noticed, “It’s fine.”

 

“Kyungsoo, you just support him any way you can,” JD said, “and with that, are we all ready?”

 

The group nodded simultaneously and then they approached City Hall in their all black colored outfits. 

 

Kyungsoo could feel his hands sweat on top of the mist coating the world around him, making his hand slip when he went to swipe Jongdae and Jongin into the building. It was amazing how little security was currently at the building, but thanks to JD already having their surveillance hacked into, JD and Jongin could easily slip past the one guard stationed there.  

 

“Good luck,” Kyungsoo said to Jongin, holding his shirt sleeve tight. They held their gaze a moment before Jongin gripped Kyungsoo’s, and then pulling him into a hug. 

 

“You too.”

 

Then, Kyungsoo and Baekhyun began to walk to the banquet, setting a timer for 30 minutes. 

 

Upon arrival to the venue, Kyungsoo shifted his suit tie he had on and held Baekhyun back a moment. 

 

“I don’t know this building too well, so what do you want to do?”

 

“Is there a stage?” Baekhyun sung quiet enough, Kyungsoo couldn’t almost here him. 

 

“Yes, there is one on the other side of the building. I think I know how to get there, and it should be empty backstage. I recall from last year’s that only the Mayor spoke briefly at the beginning and end. The building should be fairly empty besides the staff and some media outlets to broadcast the event.”

 

Baekhyun looked down, his hair slowly collecting more and more water. 

 

“Let’s head inside,” Kyungsoo said. “We can get in through the back. I know a guy who works here for the catering part of the evening.”

 

Baekhyun nodded, and then they traveled around the large block to the back. Kyungsoo sharply knocked three times and the door quickly swung open. 

 

“Kyungsoo, I cannot believe you’re doing this,” a man said, dressed up in a waiter outfit, his undercut hair pulled back into a small bun. His pointed, cat-like eyes seemed annoyed, his dark brown eyes almost rolling back, but he continued, “You’re great, but you’re crazy.”

 

“Minseok,” Kyungsoo said, hugging the man, “You’re an absolute lifesaver.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Minseok said, ushering the two inside. “You’re lucky my boss didn’t cut off my head when you called about this.”

 

Kyungsoo could only do greater than 90 degree bows. 

 

“You’re also lucky I know your order at the bakery. I’ve never met someone who orders the same pastry so religiously,” Minseok said, laughing. 

 

“I’ll do anything I can to help at the bakery,” Kyungsoo said. “If things go well that is.”

 

“You can stay there as long as you want,” Minseok said, “And don’t worry, if this gets solved, you can pay half the amount for rent you do now. God knows who else in this country is aching to have music back, let alone art in general.”

 

After weaving through the dark and empty kitchen to the bathroom, Baekhyun went inside after Kyungsoo to spruce up his attire— got to look good for the cameras— leaving Minseok and Kyungsoo in one of the hallways in the building. 

 

“He’s kinda cute,” Minseok said not a second after the bathroom door swung shut.

 

Kyungsoo blushed.

 

“He does seem like the type you’d bring to the bakery,” Minseok said.

 

“That was one time.”

 

“One time that left you sad for like a year and a half. You should start dating again, he seems nice.”

 

“Not yet. I’m not sure if I can right now.”

 

“Kyungsoo,” Minseok said, his arms crossed, “You said you would try to find someone months ago. I thought you were over that last jerk.”

 

“I know,” Kyungsoo said, fiddling with his tie once more.

 

“Why not him? What’s his name again? Byun Baekhan? Dakhyun?”

 

“Baekhyun.”

 

“Right! That just proves you seem to know him well. Why don’t you ask him out?”

 

Kyungsoo furthered fixing his tie until Minseok grabbed his hands to stop his fiddling. “It’s okay, Kyungsoo. I know things are rough now, obviously, but I don’t want you to be alone when all of this is over.”

 

Baekhyun then emerged from the bathroom, looking better then before in his slim fitted suit. 

 

Kyungsoo tried his best and Minseok gave him a look when they made eye contact. 

 

“Think about it,” Minseok said, grabbing a notepad out of his apron. “I got to get back to work. I’ll see you two later.”

 

He sped walked down the hall and sharply turned a corner, to which Baekhyun looked strangely at Kyungsoo, one eyebrow raised. 

 

“It’s nothing,” he said, looking at his watch, “Just his older brother attitude coming through. And we have 20 minutes, so are you ready to head over?”

 

Baekhyun turned and opened one arm out down the hall with a blank stare. 

 

“Okay,” Kyungsoo said, wearily, “Follow me.”

 

Through the small corridors, the duo quickly made it to backstage and hid backstage in the left wing.  

 

The dinner just started, sharply at 6 o’clock, and not long after, the speech made by a few government officials left Baekhyun and Kyungsoo to their schemes and plans. What Kyungsoo did know, was that they were running out of time, meaning they had only approximately 10 minutes to change the tide of the government’s own schemes and plans. 

 

Kyungsoo was afraid he couldn’t do anything, and despite having full faith in Baekhyun, Kyungsoo kept wondering if they could do it. 

 

“Are you ready?” Kyungsoo asked once, twice, a few more times for good measure. Baekhyun stayed still, crouched down and holding his knees close to him. He looked so small, so fragile. 

 

“You don’t have stage fright do you?” Kyungsoo whispered, placing his arm lightly on Baekhyun. 

 

After minutes of talking, Baekhyun gave Kyungsoo a look similar to that of the one he gave when Kyungsoo interrogated him in the cell. 

 

“You do, don’t you?”

 

Baekhyun broke eye contact.

 

Kyungsoo looked over Baekhyun, now noticing the way his body swayed as he rocked back and forth on his feet, teeth chattering like he was cold. He looked composed overall: his slightly slicked back black hair, his new suit and tie, his makeup Jongdae just  _ had _ to throw on for emphasis.

 

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo began, now moving his hand up and down Baekhyun, trying to break him from his staring spell, “You have to go out now, but you can do it. It may seem hard, trying to break out of the shadows and into the limelight, but I know you can do it. You’re brave. You’re so brave for dealing with this for so long. So many people around the country believe in the power of music, and I’m sure you do too right? You can persuade, you can enlighten, you can sing— you can do all this and more. You just need to take your first step.”

 

Their time was ticking down, but Kyungsoo took things in his own pace. He paused, trying to read Baekhyun’s body language. He seemed a little more opened as his knuckles weren’t pale from his grip. Kyungsoo held his hand.  “I’ll be here cheering you on, just like I was at my office window. That’s how I first heard you, you know? Right over at City Hall. I stayed put for the hours you performed right outside my window.”

 

A tear from Kyungsoo also found its way out, and it slowly rolled down his cheek. 

 

“It was such a relief to hear you sing after so much silence,” he said, “I was at a standstill. I didn’t move then, knowing that listening might even get me arrested, and I won’t move now. Not until it’s all over. I won’t leave until you can finally sing in peace, without being ordered to to so. I won’t ever leave you unless you push me away. I believe in us, Baekhyun.”

 

Slowly, Baekhyun began to calm down. His rocking stopped, his shivering ceased. 

 

Kyungsoo gave Baekhyun one last rub on the arm before hugging him tightly, saying, “I believe in  _ you _ .”

 

With that, Baekhyun reached his arms up to hold Kyungsoo. 

 

And then the tsunami leaked out.

 

Kyungsoo would wait as long as possible for the water reservoir in Baekhyun to run dry, for the sun to return and dry all the problems away, for that glimmer of light that would break between the clouds until Baekhyun was okay. 

 

The pain in his heart was something Kyungsoo never felt before, and he wanted to help Baekhyun as much as he could so he wouldn’t have to feel that awful feeling. The feeling of being used, of being afraid.  

 

Maybe it was the fact he was a bit of an idol to him that made him want to stay with him for so long? He loved his voice and the music, so why not want to bring that back? Why not want to see someone he cared for, succeed?

 

Maybe because Kyungsoo could see himself in Baekhyun? The fact he wanted to be someone to help others through a voice made him feel a connection to Baekhyun. 

 

Maybe it was something more, like how he felt a growing tide in his mind, covering over his ability to focus whenever he was with Baekhyun. His riptide gaze was too much for Kyungsoo to handle, and despite being pulled in deeper and deeper into his story— his eyes— Kyungsoo knew that he could swim long enough past all the struggles and back to the shore.  

 

Maybe it was love?

 

As soon as Baekhyun broke the embrace, Kyungsoo smiled and said, “I’ll be right here. I won’t go away.”

 

Kyungsoo stood up, held out his hand, Baekhyun quickly grabbing it tightly, and helped lift him up. 

 

Baekhyun still looked beautiful with his slightly reddened eyes and tear filled cheeks, and Kyungsoo wiped them away, hoping those who would see Baekhyun could see past the sadness, though, and see a bright future filled with something they missed so much. 

 

They kissed. 

 

Like before, it a smash of notes, instruments, and feelings. They were still afraid of their boundaries, yet were passionate enough to cross them. It made Kyungsoo lightheaded.

 

When they broke away, Baekhyun had a small grin on his face. He finally made the first step towards the stage.

 

Kyungsoo figured Baekhyun would still be emotional in his performance, and when the first tear fell after he began to sing, the gasp of the crowd and yelling of the media faded away. He watched as the the tears fell like tree leaf dripping off the last bits of an early morning spring rain, glistening in the spotlight as they fell down.

 

One. 

 

Two, three.

 

Four. 

 

All that was left was the sound. The echo of Baekhyun’s footsteps and his voice reverberated around the country and across the world, swinging Kyungsoo back to the moment he first heard Baekhyun. Each time, with no fail, he thought back to the day his little song and little tune of his guitar made him feel so many feelings at once.

 

Kyungsoo watched as the rain and music flowed— watched, and never looked back. 


End file.
